


Theft

by clavicular



Category: The Young Ones
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crime, First Time, Hatesex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something beautiful in the sound of alarms going off all over the city. It was like flying, like explosives in the distance, setting you free.  Vyvyan glanced at the rear-vision mirror; deserted streets fell away behind him. Panic was beautiful in its simplicity. It was broken instinct, evolution that could kill you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apiphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/gifts).



 

There was something beautiful in the sound of alarms going off all over the city. It was like flying, like explosives in the distance, setting you free.  Vyvyan glanced at the rear-vision mirror; deserted streets fell away behind him. Panic was beautiful in its simplicity. It was broken instinct, evolution that could kill you.

 

***

 

“Well?” Mike asked.

Vyvyan gave his best sheepish grin. “Ah, see, the thing is,” he said, “we hadn’t counted on the monkeys.”

“Monkeys?”

“Yeah, they’re a real nuisance. Kept trying to chew my legs off.”

“Listen, Vyvyan, I thought I’d impressed upon you the importance of this stage-”

Rick rolled his eyes, and cut Mike off.

“Yes, yes, very witty, Vyvyan.” He turned on the tv. “I _don’t _think.”

He flipped through the channels; news reports on every station.

“I still don’t think it’s very Zen to bring the city to a grinding halt,” Neil called glumly from the kitchen. “Just think of all that pent up negative energy, building and building until…” Vyvyan suspected Neil was finishing that sentence with animated hand gestures.

“Fortunately, Neil, the afterlife is a business like any other,” Mike said. “You can buy your way to a cosy reincarnation. Somewhere in the Bahamas might be nice.”

Rick snorted. “Anywhere’s better than this dump.”

 

It wasn’t true, really. Broken down, boarded up sheds attracted as much attention as four-storey mansions, so why not live in a little style? That was how Mike had put it, and Vyvyan saw no reason to argue. He insisted on the security system, though. Rick remained convinced it was an elaborate attempt on his life, but Rick also thought eight landmines in the front lawn was excessive. What did he know, anyway?

 

“Guys, guys, you’re rippling my calm!” Neil protested. “I need to concentrate.”

“Neil, you spazmo, you’re just intercepting a phone call,” Rick said. “You're not communing with the world beyond.”

Neil stuck his head through the doorway and pulled a face. “Urgh, no. I had someone’s dead grandfather put me on hold for _hours _last time.”

“Uh, Neil?” Vyvyan said, “Why are you holding the telephone upside-down?”

It was really the wrong question. Neil had somehow managed to twist the cord around himself several times, tangling his hands so they were immobilized around his neck, and then catching on his ear so that the receiver dangled pitifully beside his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Neil said, looks at it as if he’d only just noticed. Obligingly, Vyvyan turned the phone up the right way and placed it into Neil’s floundering hand.

“Thanks,” he said, and sidled out of the room.

 

***

 

“We appreciate you coming in on such short notice,” the clerk said. “After yesterday’s malfunction, well… it’s just a precaution, of course, but we need to verify that nothing was taken.”

“Oh, of course,” said the professor. “It’s just fortunate I was in town for a conference this week.” He had an odd sort of accent, an affected air that was slightly too formal. “Forgive me for asking, but don't you have your own personnel who could carry out this kind of verification?"

The clerk turned over a set of keys in his hand nervously. "You know, it's the oddest thing, but all of our senior staff have been struck down with a mysterious illness."

The professor regarded the clerk intently. "How strange," he said.

 

***

 

Neil was still in the kitchen, chanting at the phone. Mike was in the corner, reviewing some document or other. Vyvyan was occupying himself by bouncing a tennis ball backwards and forwards.

"Vyvyan," said Rick tersely, "I'm not sure you're aware, but that's actually rather annoying."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Vyvyan said. "I'm just playing tennis."

"Yes, I know. You keep bouncing the ball off my head."

Vyvyan's eyes lit up. "Really? I hadn't noticed!" (He had.) "Good game, isn't it?"

"It's not really a game, is it? More like a form of systematic abuse. Fascist.”

Vyvyan shrugged. "Whatever, it's still good!"

"Actually it's incredibly childish and- alright _stop it_!" Rick tried ineffectually to use his magazine as a shield.

"Make me, Spotty!"

"Alright," said Rick, his face turning an interesting purple. "The fact that your plan didn't fall apart _spectacularly_ was a complete fluke, and Frank Abagnale is an overrated government lap-dog!" Rick darted to the other side of the room, know they were Fighting Words.

"Rick. Today was not a fluke." He picked up the coffee table, and hurled it at Rick. It hit him in the chest, and Neil's cup of peppermint tea landed upside-down on his head. Vyvyan doubled over, laughing. "_That _was a fluke."

"Anyway," said Vyvyan, after a moment. "What about Cassie Chadwick? She never pulled one heist worth mentioning. And she's a sissy virgin." He thought about this. "Like you."

“Oh, yes, Vyvyan, five million dollars from one con is _hardly _worth mentioning. Anyway, she was married three times and ran a brothel, I highly doubt she was- in fact, I think she had a daughter! Or was it a son? No, I think it was probably…”

Vyvyan sighed. Trust Rick to miss the important part.

“And I’m not a virgin!”

 

***

 

His first instinct had been to use explosives. But he couldn’t get the time delay right, and the potential damage was unacceptable. (He’d said that aloud, just to see the others’ faces.) There were too many variables for a job like this. Ironically, the answer was something that should have been far less predictable. It’d taken weeks of testing, but they ended up getting the margin of error within acceptable limits. He’d been particularly pleased with the self-release mechanism – the boxes opened when their contents chewed their way through the specially designed lock. All he had to do was discreetly deposit them at all the major buildings around town and wait. Pigeons set off motion detectors like nothing else.

 

***

 

Vyvyan had Rick pinned on the floor, calmly bouncing the tennis ball off his forehead. Maybe it could be rigged up to explode on impact.

“Help! Vyvyan, you selfish bastard, get off me!”

Ammonium tri-iodide should do it. Though touch powder never caused enough damage.

“Neil! Help! _Neil! _Come in here and help me _this instant, _you lazy hippy! Vyvyan’s trying to murder me! Help!”

Maybe he could put touch powder in Rick’s bedroom. That’d be a good trick.

Neil poked his head into the living room. He was still wound up in the telephone cord. “No,” he said into the phone, “I’m afraid he’s a bit busy at the moment, Dr Renford... Art conservation? Er. Something like that.” He looked doubtfully at Rick. “No, no, he really is at the top of his field.” Neil wandered out of the room again.

“Neil, you absolute bastard!” Rick screeched.

“Never mind, Rick,” Vyvyan said. “Your black-eye tomorrow will make people think you’re really tough.”

“You think so?” Rick asked, looking flattered despite himself.

“No, not really. Everyone’s going to know you’re a complete wimp.”

 

***

 

The professor examined the paintings. The clerk watched his face closely.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"It's probably nothing," the professor assured him. He peered closer. "Oh dear."

When no explanation was forthcoming, the clerk cleared his throat.

"Sorry, sorry, I was... distracted," said the professor. "There seems to be... well, look closely at the brushstroke patterns here, and here."

The clerk did, although it was meaningless to him. The professor met his gaze.

"I'm afraid this painting is a copy."

 

***

 

Rick was standing awkwardly at Vyvyan’s doorway.

“What is it, girly?” Vyvyan asked. He grinned when Rick’s eyes narrowed.

“Vyvyan, you know perfectly well I’m neither a girl nor a virgin, so I do wish you wouldn’t insist on referring to me as such.”

“Ah-ha, but you see, Rick, you’re an enormous prat, so I have to remind you regularly. Otherwise you might forget, and then you'd be going around being a prat without even knowing it. I'm really doing you a favour.”

“You’re such a bastard,” Rick said, stepping inside. He shut the door.

 

***

 

The first time it happened, they’d just finished the bank job. The one with the vault. Vyvyan knew they’d been lucky to make it out of that one. Neil was concussed, Rick had a black eye and lacerations up his arms, and Vyvyan had a broken leg. Even Mike had a couple of bruises, and that was the real gauge.

"Stop moving!" Rick had snapped at him, and Vyvyan had nearly given him a second black eye.

"You keep doing it wrong!" Vyvyan pushed Rick aside and tried to fix the splint himself. His back kept jarring - the angle was all wrong, and moving already hurt. He stopped, leaning backwards. Contrary to popular belief, Vyvyan wasn't stupid enough to do himself any _serious_ damage.

"Fine," Rick said, "I'll drive you to the nearest hospital and you can explain yourself to them."

"I doubt it," Vyvyan said, "Because if you even come near me, I'll nail your feet to the ceiling."

"Not with that leg, you won't. Now for God's sake, Vyvyan, let me fix it."

After his fifth attempt, the bandage was almost passable, and Vyvyan had told him to leave it. Rick stood up, and turned towards the door.

"I always wonder," he said, his back to Vyvyan, "how you manage to improvise explosives from household materials, and then are stupid enough to stand right next to the blast.” He shrugged. “Then again, your stupidity is baffling in so many ways..."

"That's because you're  an idiot," Vyvyan explained, pulling a face he knew Rick couldn't see.

"Your originality is truly astounding, Vyvyan," Rick said without turning around. "And stop pulling that face, you look ridiculous."

"You look ridiculous without trying." He stood up, using the bedpost for support. Useless adrenaline wound tightly inside him, making him want to snap - himself, something else, he just needed the destruction.

Rick laughed, deliberately fake, and said "You're the one that can't walk."

Vyvyan snarled. He couldn't reach Rick fast enough to hit him. He was going to have to attach chainsaws to the bottom of his crutches, or something.

Rick did turn towards him now, smug security written all over his face. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Anger uncoiled in Vyvyan’s chest. He lunged, arms wrapping around Rick’s neck as his leg gave way in agony. Rick staggered under the weight, but didn’t fall.

Vyvyan swayed, trying to find his footing again, and then Rick was steadying him, and that was when he felt Rick’s lips crash against his own. Vyvyan froze. Then he jerked backwards.

“What the Hell was that?!”

Rick’s face contorted with terror.

“I don’t know!” he squeaked. “I don’t know, honestly, I didn’t even- Please don’t tell anyone! I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t going to-”

His words were cut off as Vyvyan pushed him against the doorframe and kissed back, violently. Pain shot through Vyvyan’s leg, but he had allowed for it. Just enough to feel. Rick slid his hands up Vyvyan’s chest. Then, abruptly, he pushed Vyvyan away.

“Vyvyan, what on earth…”

Vyvyan grabbed him again, and muffled Rick’s protests with another kiss. Rick flailed beneath him, throwing off Vyvyan's tenuous balance. He landed heavily on the broken leg.

“_Bastard!_” He shoved Rick back into the wall, hard. Rick cringed, but his expression was smug. He pulled Vyvyan towards him, cocky arousal on his face when it made Vyvyan flinch. Vyvyan retaliated, biting into Rick’s shoulder until he cried out.

“You try that again and I’ll kill you,” Vyvyan hissed. Rick tried to shrink backwards into the wall, but there was a calculating look in his eyes, too. Something hot settled inside Vyvyan, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or lust. He scraped his teeth down Rick’s neck, slightly too hard. Rick moaned; it might have been in pain. Vyvyan didn’t much care. Without bothering with the zipper, he pushed his hand down Rick’s pants. Rick gasped and jerked back. “That hurt, you moron.”

“Shut up,” Vyvyan spat, trying to get enough movement in his wrist. Rick’s pants were tighter than he’d counted on. He must have done something right, because Rick’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out another moan. His hips thrust awkwardly, as if trying to adjust the angle.

“Oh god, more… no, less like… here, let me-” Rick fumbled with his zipper.

“Don’t.” Vyvyan batted his hand away.

Rick’s gasp sounded more pleading, this time. He reached for his zipper again, and again Vyvyan pushed him away. The third time, Vyvyan caught Rick’s wrist in his hand. It put Vyvyan off balance, making him vulnerable. He held it anyway, enjoying Rick’s frustrated groan.

“Vyvyan,” he said, somewhere between threatening and desperate. Finally, Vyvyan released Rick’s hand and let him undo his pants, dropping them just far enough. Vyvyan wrapped his hand around Rick’s cock, stroking roughly. Rick made a noise that Vyvyan intended to tease him about later, clutching at Vyvyan’s hips as he came, fingernails digging into the skin. He leant against Vyvyan, making Vyvyan’s good leg ache just from supporting the weight.

“Get off me.” He tried to disentangle himself, but the effort put too much strain on his broken bone. He fell, crashing to the ground.

“Ow, _fuck_!”

“Hurts, does it?” Rick said, staring down at him with a predatory smile.

Vyvyan groped around until his fingers connected with a boot. He threw it at Rick, who ducked.

“Temper,” said Rick. Zipping his pants back up, he dropped to the floor and pressed Vyvyan backwards, pinning him down. Vyvyan shifted uncomfortably, trying to take Rick’s weight off his broken leg. Rick smiled, and leant harder. Pain shot through him, unbearable and not enough. Vyvyan cursed. It was agonizing; he was helpless and helplessly turned on. He needed to strike out and he _couldn't, _couldn't do anything but want_. _Rick moved slightly, giving Vyvyan enough leverage to free one hand and grab Rick’s shoulder. Rick twitched, and Vyvyan remembered the grazes along his arms. Viciously, he dragged his fingernails down them. Rick recoiled, easing the pressure on his leg. Vyvyan nearly sobbed with disappointment and relief. Then Rick was dragging his pants down, deliberately violent, dislodging the makeshift splint. He thrashed, kicking at Rick with his good leg, but Rick was stroking him, quick and dirty, and Vyvyan’s thrashing turned into a thrust. He arched up into the touch, but his leg protested. He moaned, trying to hold onto the pleasure through a haze of pain. “Christ,” he muttered, and shoved Rick’s hands aside, needing desperately to finish himself. He was so close he came almost instantly, screaming when his leg convulsed.

The world drifted back into focus. Rick was staring down at him, eyes dark with something that might have been lust or power or fear.

Rick cleaned himself up in silence and left, avoiding Vyvyan's eyes. Vyvyan didn't move. He wondered idly if blackening vision was a bad sign.

They never spoke about it again. They never spoke about it at all.

 

***

 

Vyvyan had just finished the last-minute double-check of his car. Neil was still out at the hire truck.

“Er, Mike?” Rick asked, leafing through their documents. “Why is there only one passport?”

Mike had long since mastered the art of Wise, Omniscient Looks, and this one didn’t disappoint.

“Use your brain, Rick. The first thing they’ll expect us to do is leave the country. So, we make them think there’s only one of us, make them think he’s already gone. We lie low for a bit, wait for things to cool off, and then… adiós England.”

“Right, right, of course,” Rick said, still uncertain.

Neil reappeared, covered in grease and looking bemused. Mike smiled.

 “Alright, everyone, meet back here at 1 o’clock.”

 

***

 

All in all, the professor identified eleven counterfeit artworks. It was a terrible loss for the gallery, worth millions of dollars.

"I'm afraid this heist was expertly done," the professor said. "It will be difficult to track the thieves."

"Is there anything we can do?" the clerk asked. The professor paused.

“There might be,” he said.

“Anything would be appreciated.” The clerk fiddled anxiously with his watch.

“I have contacts who work in recovering this sort of property,” the professor explained. “They’ll need to take the counterfeit works to their laboratory, of course. To study, you understand.”

The clerk hesitated.

“May I borrow your telephone?” asked the professor. “I can have them here within the hour.”

Forty minutes later, they arrived.

 

***

 

Getting the paintings into the truck had been easy enough. Rick made a very convincing snotty, pretentious art freak - Vyvyan was entirely unsurprised. It was afterwards that things became complicated.

Vyvyan was securing the truck doors when he heard something click behind him.

“Alright, step backwards and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Vyvyan spun around to find a gun in his face. Mike was holding it.

“Good one, Mike,” Vyvyan said, laughing hopefully.

“I’ve been told I have a good sense for comedy,” he said. “Now move.”

 “I don’t think you really want-“

“I don’t think you want to try and tell me what to do right now, Vyvyan.”

Vyvyan thought he might have a point.

"You should have stuck to the plan," Mike said.“I didn’t want to shoot you,”

“No,” Rick stepped out from behind the truck. “No, you were perfectly happy to let us rot in prison.” His gun was trained on Mike.

Mike shrugged. “Money only goes so far, four ways. I liked it better going my way.”

“Really. Well, I think you were just being extremely selfish.”

Mike lowered his weapon. Vyvyan went to take it from him.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Rick said, “Don’t think I don’t know what you were up to.”

Vyvyan stared at him. “Rick,” he said, “you are a complete hammer. If you don’t -”

“No, no, no,” Mike said. “I think you mean ‘tool’.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Rick, you’re a complete tool.”

“Right. Rick, you’re a complete tool.” He glanced at Mike, who nodded encouragingly. “And if you don’t put the gun down right now, I’ll make you wear it as a hat.”

Rick blinked at him.

“After I put my fist through your intestines, of course.”

“Right,” said Rick. “Of course.” He paused. “No, wait a second. I’m the one with the gun, here! Both of you have to do what I tell you!”

“Alright,” said Mike, “but if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you something. Now, I understand why you’d mistrust me a little right now, it seems we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding. But why Vyvyan? I’m intrigued.”

“I suppose you think I’m being irrational,” Rick said. “Well, I’m not. Vyvyan was meant to drive off first, and pick me up a few blocks away, remember?”

“Er, Rick…” Vyvyan said.

 Which _means_,” he went on, “that Vyvyan here wasn’t intending to follow the plan either.”

“Rick?”

“I wonder why that might be. Is it possible that _you _were planning to run off with the paintings yourself?”

“Rick!”

“_What?_”

“Mike!” Vyvyan said, pointing to the front of the truck. Mike tipped his hat at them as he started the engine. Rick cursed and dashed towards the truck, but it was already gone.

“This is all your fault!” he said, rounding on Vyvyan.

“I did try to warn you,” Vyvyan pointed out. “I wasn’t stealing the paintings, but even if- No.” he tried again. “I wasn’t trying to steal the paintings from you, although I was trying to steal them from whichever bastards own this place, but so were you. Now put down your gun and we can go after Mike.”

Rick regarded him suspiciously. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to shove a screwdriver up your nose.”

Rick considered this. “You’d better be able to find those paintings,” he said, lowering his gun.

“I will,” said Vyvyan. He grabbed the gun out of Rick’s hand. Rick stared as Vyvyan raised it to his head.

"Vyvyan, that's not-"

Vyvyan lifted his own gun, too. Rick took a step backwards.

“What are you doing? You wouldn’t really-”

Vyvyan pulled the trigger.

 

***

 

Vyvyan drove, eyes steady on the road ahead. It was empty, bar a few lonely cars driving in the opposite direction. Strange, how quiet everything seemed. He drummed on the wheel, fingers tapping out a senseless beat.

"I still can't believe you shot me," Rick said.

"It wasn't loaded!"

"You weren't to know that! You were going to kill me. Admit it, you tried to murder me in cold blood!"

"I did so know!" he protested.

"How? How could you possibly have known?"

Because he'd stolen Rick's ammo the previous night. Watching Rick search for it, unwilling to confess it was lost, was hilarious. But he wasn't going to tell Rick that. He might want to do it again.

"Hippy!" he said, instead.

Rick glared at him, but he sat less gingerly in his seat, as if he wasn't so certain Vyvyan was about to go on another homicidal rampage at any moment.

 

"I can't _believe _that little sneak is getting away with our hard earned paintings," Rick said.

"Yeah! We worked so hard to steal them and everything!"

Rick eyed him suspiciously. "Are you taking the piss, Vyvyan? You are, aren't you? I suppose you think that's a terribly clever thing to do in a situation like this, but I have news for you-"

"They weren't real, you know."

Rick stopped. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Of course they were real. We bloody stole them, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but they were fake. I painted them myself."

"You did not! Anyway, you can't paint."

"Can so, can so, can so!” Vyvyan said. “I got Neil to plant them in the back of the truck before we left. Brilliant, hey?"

"But... what happened to the real paintings, then?"

"Oh, I left those back at the gallery. Art theft is so bloody _boring_."

"_What?_"

Vyvyan grinned. "You’re such an imbecile. They're in the boot."

"You mean... wait a minute, how did you know Mike was going to run off with the truck?"

"I didn't." Vyvyan said. "I was gonna nick off with them myself."

“I knew it, I bloody-” Rick broke off, looking horrified. "You _did _try to kill me!"

Vyvyan shrugged. “I was bored.”

 

“So what now?” Rick asked.

“We have to find Mike.”

“Find-? But we have the paintings! What do we need Mike for?”

Vyvyan grabbed Rick by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close. “Because Jerzei Balowski is going to realise the ‘authentic’ paintings Mike is getting him to fence are counterfeit.”

“The road! Watch-” Rick waved his arm frantically. Vyvyan released him, and Rick shrank back in his seat, rubbing his neck. “I still don’t see why it’s our problem. Mike betrayed us and he deserves everything he gets. I say we take the money and run.” He paused. “You know, Vyvyan, I was thinking. I mean, do we _really _need to meet up with Neil? Money goes further two ways, after all, and I really think-”

Vyvyan sighed in exasperation. “Shut up or I’ll tell everyone what actually happened last year at the jewellery shop.”

Rick gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

Vyvyan just smirked. Rick crossed his arms.

“Anyway, that was a completely different situation. I didn’t mean to swap the jewels and try to run off. It was… a break down in communication, that’s what it was.”

“Yeah, just like you told everyone else.”

 

They drove in silence for a while. Eventually, Rick said, “Neil should be able to trace him, if we hurry.”

“You think so?” Vyvyan asked, and swerved enthusiastically down a side street. For some reason, this made Rick cover his face with his arms and mutter frantically to himself. It was a good trick, so Vyvyan did it again.

“You bastard, I know you’re doing that just to upset me. Well, it won’t work, I’m completely- _watch the road, for God’s sake._”

“I am watching the road,” Vyvyan said, watching Rick. Rick yelped and tried to take the wheel. Vyvyan let him, leaning back casually while Rick struggled to keep that car on the road.

“You are such a bastard,” Rick said.

 

-The End-


End file.
